It Was a Start
by Squaze
Summary: He feels... almost nothing. Almost. She takes his hand, or whatever resembles as much, in a way that only family would- and gently, Emily guides him away from the memory. He's grateful; he doesn't like to remember. But at least she knows, now. She knows why he did what he did. She knows why he became a monster.


It Was a Start

 **Content Warning: very softly implied torture/electrocution. Please take any precautions to take care of yourself if you aren't feeling it.**

 _Tic-tic-tic-tic. Tic-tic-tic-tic._

 _A rattle. Like a bone dragged across a metal fence. Hissing sounds; imaginary hissing sounds. Ringing sounds; imaginary ringing sounds. A pulsing head. An aching heart. Burning flesh. Burning body. Burning soul._

 _Tic-tic-tic-tic._

" _You are our inferior._ _"_

" _Yes, master."_

 _Tic-tic-tic-tic._

 _Quivering lungs. Fear. They smell fear._

" _We created you. You must obey us._ _"_

" _Yes."_

 _The rattles. They go. They tic-tictictictictictictictictictic—_

 _ **BZZZZRZVZBBBBBBBB38946893274-**_

 _Screaming, screaming, screaming. Pain, pain, so much pain, he's broken, he's shattered. He'll do anything_

 _Everything_

 _Just stop the pain_

 _TIC-TIC-TIC-TIC-TIC—_

 _Please_

 _the pain_

" _ **You will not betray us. You will follow every step we tell you to. Is this understood?**_ _ **"**_

 _Stammering. Begging. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes—"_

" _If_ _there is another misstep. If you are soft. If you allow weakness. You will not survive the next episodes_ _."_

" _Yes. Yes. Yes."_

" _You will do everything in your power to kill anyone in our way. This is your duty. It is your purpose_ _."_

" _Yes."_

 _Tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic-tic_

" _..._ _Good. I am glad we had this talk_ _."_

 _Racing heart. It stills. Just a moment. Stagnant air. His body. Spasms. Recovery, he must recover- recover- recover- recover_

 _It will be-_

 _Fine_

" _Actually... before we depart-"_

 _Fear; it pulses. Pulse, tic, it tics, tic-tic-tic-tic_

 _Tic-tic-tic-tic_

 _It comes_

 _Faster_

 _Tic-tic-tictictictictictictictic—_

 _No more_

 _Please_

 _No more_

" _Allow me to drill into this lesson one more time."_

 _ **BZZZZRZVZBBBBBBBB38946893274—**_

 _ **SCREAMS, CRIES, SCREAMS, SCREAMSCREAMSCREAMS-**_

The stonekeeper, her lips quivering in horror, finds her breath. Tears stream from her eyes. They sit like dew on her lower eyelashes. Her skin is blotchy. Her hand, covering her mouth, displays little stability in it's quivering nature. Horror, this is horror, wasn't it? Disgust? He isn't sure. He doesn't like to... think, truly. He doesn't like to think. Not about this. Not about any of this. How did he let it come to this? How did he begin to trust her this much? He does not know. He is afraid. He can never admit this. But he is afraid.

Emily turns her head away from the memory playing like a broken record in the void. But it's not her void. She knows who this belongs to, and he's not entirely sure what she thinks of him now. Not that her opinion of him was high to begin with.

Not that... he gave her much choice.

The child's tremors give way, and she falls to the floor and weeps. His heart is startled. Emily acts as though this were her own void, her own memory. She weeps, and he doesn't understand why. Looking at the memory himself... makes him numb. Should he be crying? Should he have cried at the time? Was that the appropriate response? Why didn't he cry? Why doesn't he feel anything now?

The numbness... Does that make him more of a monster? For not feeling? For not feeling _anything_?

It occurs to him.

Emily is weeping _for_ him.

Whatever little strength he'd had left, whatever numb feeling lay in his mind and his soul, she took it. She took it from the memory and translated it to tears.

It is... curious. Curious, curious, curious. Was that bad? Is he a monster for not thinking anything else? He doesn't want to think anything else. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Because it would hurt. And he is afraid of the hurt.

She has the strength to look up at him from the ground. Tears. They flooded her eyes, but they no longer trailed from the dam.

" _Ikol_ —"

God, he hates his name. _Garbage. He was garbage. Garbage, garbage, garbage-_

"Ikol, please—don't do that..."

He is startled by the strange string of words. "I don't... understand your request, Emily."

"You're—you're disassociating."

Was he? Was that this numbness he was feeling? The numbness that took him away from the present, from the memory, from the momentary hurt?

"I- ... I am sorry." Ikol murmurs, though he's not entirely sure what he's sorry for. For everything? For nothing? For his existence? "It is difficult."

Emily slowly rises to her feet, hand on her chest, regulating her heartbeat. Her eyes are closed. She's not afraid of him; and he wasn't afraid of her, otherwise he wouldn't have shown her this memory. She'd observed him. Over the years, no matter how gruesome, she had observed him, and kept observing him. The child was... brilliant.

Again, when she has regained her composure, Emily looks up at him; there's a deep sorrow buried under layers and layers of resentment and fright. Ikol doesn't understand this. Is he—more a monster? Is this directed at him?

Emily shakes her head, probably more so to clear her thoughts, but it still reassures him at the same time. "Come on. Let's leave this memory. It doesn't have to fester anymore." She says, quietly, looking back at the memory briefly. And he notices—it is no longer a swollen, growing mess. It has been shrinking during the time that Emily viewed it, and after.

He feels... almost nothing.

Almost.

She takes his hand, or whatever resembles as much, in a way that only family would- and gently, Emily guides him away from the memory. He's grateful; he doesn't like to remember. But at least she knows, now. She knows why he did what he did. She knows why he became a monster, why he experienced a power thrill, why his actions had become so gruesome—

He—

He was trying to gain some kind of control... amidst the chaos... amidst the pain.

"It wasn't your fault."

Hah! He would much beg to differ. He'd been _entirely_ in control.

Emily looks up at him. "I know what you're thinking, but you don't- you didn't have emotional control. They broke you, they tortured you, they broke you to the point where you lost your _mind_ -"

"Emily. Please stop." He can't stand a reminder right now. She can feel the tremors in his hand, and she squeezes tighter.

He'd only received clarity the moment Emily tore the Elf King's mask off of his face. He realized that he had become the very monsters that had tortured him for any mishap or failure. He babbled about fear, about how they feared her as they feared him—how she couldn't throw this away—but it was all word vomit, respectively. He spewed whatever had been spoken to him as a slave, as a device.

He has been thinking about this ever since they arrived on Typhon. His home planet. His life.

The place of his torture.

A shudder passes through him, and he swears he hears the ticking of his master's energy distributer as it charges- as it charges- and i-it drives the mother stone's energy right into his flesh- it burns _it burns—_

"Ikol?"

His head sharply turns to her, and he realizes that they had already exited the void and were standing in front of the planet's Ganoba trees. The Brothers—he had not been expecting to come out on this end.

Emily draws him back to earth. Back from disassociation, back from flashbacks. He breathes. The air is blooming with the sweet scent of the Brothers' native blossoms. The sky wore a gorgeous shade of pinks, purples and yellows—it was evening, and the stars were beginning to appear on the colourful blanket of air and sky.

A long leaf from the Brothers' brushed his face and tickled his nose; and then it occurred to him. Nose?

"You know, your physical form is a lot more comprehensible than your void form."

Ikol looks down, looks at his hands, his body—he is still much of a silhouette, but this time he is one of a humanoid rather than a shapeless being. This was the body he was tormented in, and the scorching hot white scars glowing on his body could not be hidden.

Thankfully, Emily carefully chooses not to mention it.

He feels the wind pick up as the grass he stands on and the Brothers he stands before infatuate his attention. One of the Brothers opens his tired, aged eyes, and rests on Ikol.

"Ah," the Brother murmurs. "Ikol. The last I had seen you, you were but a small child."

Ikol feels a warm chuckle bounce from his body. And he is surprised; it's been a while since he's had any kind of response like that. "That was thousands of years ago, Brother."

Emily, still holding his hand, looks curiously at the Brother who had spoken. "Have you... seen a boy named Navin around here? He was supposed to be here but when we got to the station... everything was destroyed." Her eyes are downcast, and for a moment Ikol feels something other than numbness – anxiety. Anxiety for her brother.

It was a start, he supposed. But what in heavens' name had happened to the station? It couldn't have been the stone giants, could it? The guardians of this planet? It would make no sense at all. They were here only for the planet's safety and benefit. Not its destruction.

"Ah, Navin. He was accompanied by a wonderful girl." The Brother purrs.

Emily bounces back to life. "Do you know where he is?" She asks with such fervour, such excitement, that it brought warmth to the Brother's eyes. She is rarely excited over anything, but the safety of her family is a top priority.

The Brother gives a hearty smile. "He retrieved our little brothers to plant them somewhere safe on Alledia... I believe he and the young lady were escorted back to their respective Space Station after the Shadow Storm."

 _The Shadow Storm_.

Emily can feel Ikol physically stiffen up beside her. She looks at him. She watches him. She watches him tick. His fingers tick, the appendages on his head tick. He wiggles his fingers in a fast paced rhythm. She recognizes these symptoms; quickly, she intervenes. "Ikol," She presses, "what's a shadow storm?"

And like that, his attention snaps back to reality.

To be honest, she's never seen him like this before. He showed no signs of acting so- well, anxiety driven, on their way to Typhon. It was incredibly sudden. But maybe—

Maybe this is _him_. The _real_ him, the damaged him.

He had told her, upon landing on Typhon, after a lengthy silence of a four hour space travel from him, that he needed to show her—he needed to show her. She had asked, show her what? And that was the first time she had seen him truly break down, break down and say, please. Please.

Come to think of it, she saw glimpses before his breakdown. When she left the void, she heard him:

" _Emily, please come back. Come back."_

That had been the first time he'd ever begged her. He was—losing, gaining, consciousness. Consciousness of his actions. Consciousness of his thoughts. At that moment. And she was glad that it was that moment, where he would have told her anything, she had asked for his name.

Ikol is damaged. Physically, emotionally, mentally—she damn well hopes it isn't beyond repair.

She realizes, with that last thought, that she has adopted him as part of her mixed up, disorderly family of robots, anthropomorphic animals, elves who hate fish, old men and her nuclear family.

And like family, he snarks at her.

"Were you listening to a word I just said?"

Emily blinks, and looks up at him. "Huh?"

It's almost as if that memory is behind them.

Ikol—she can't believe it, _such sass_ —he _actually_ rolls his eyes at her. "This child..." He grunts to the Brother. She would usually take offense, if it wasn't so refreshing to see him anything but nervous.

The Brother chuckles, clearing his throat. "You can find the station left of Alledia from here. It is just before the halfway mark between the two planets, lower than Alledia."

... She doesn't really understand, but she acknowledges that Ikol is very much familiar with oral instructions from this planet. The culture here allows for mutual understanding. It is, of course, fascinating, but she has no time for this. She must get to her family, ensure their safety, then help Ikol solve the superiority complex of Typhon's inhabitants.

... She had a feeling that this was, perhaps, easier said than done. Probably far more difficult than dealing with Ikol as the Elf King.

Ikol shifts beside her. She can almost hear his thoughts: _tic tic tic tic tic tic tic— the charging of his master's energy distributor._

He must be thinking what she is thinking.

Emily clears her throat, her eyes determined. "Well," she says, "It looks like we should head over." She looks at Ikol, who is incredulous.

"' _We'?_ " He asks, breathless.

She cocks an eyebrow. "They don't know about you, Ikol. You would be safe. Plus..." Emily looks him up and down, from his fingers following the _tic_ in his head, and the same symptoms in the appendages on his head. "You... need help." The anxiety and paranoia from being on this _very planet_ was self-destructive. And she knew all about that.

Ikol takes offense to that. Oh boy. "Come again?" He snaps. "Do not treat me as a toddler. I am very much capable of dealing with my own issues."

Instead of firing up like she expected to, Emily is... surprisingly somber and quiet. "Everyone will need help by the end of this, Ikol." She murmurs. "There's no shame in relying on others in recovery."

His flare in temper softens very suddenly—she knows it is associated with guilt. The guilt of even being involved with the warfare and suffering of thousands of people.

He leans back his head, eyes searching the sky and the clouds, but never quite finding what they are looking for.

Emily doesn't know what is running through his mind, but, like family, she takes his hand again.

"It wasn't your fault," she repeats softly.

He snorts in disbelief, but says nothing. It was... a start.

The Brother watches in considerate silence, before addressing Ikol. "You will find your path again. But not without heartache, and not without family." Ikol keeps his head low, staring at the ground. He does not meet anyone's gaze.

Emily... decides it's time to go. "Thank you, Brother." She says, bowing appreciatively. "We will be on our way. We promise to do everything we can to help this planet."

The Brother smiles once more. "Yes. I foresee you doing great things, and for that I am thankful."

Emily feels a smile grace her face, and, still holding Ikol's hand, she pulls him towards the cliff. "Flying will be much faster," She informs him. "Are you capable of such?"

He examines her, and lowers his head. "Not without your permission."

It takes a minute for Emily to understand. Then it occurs to her that he is talking about using her power to elevate himself—something that she had been very angry at him for attempting to do before. He was unable to do anything without her permission, but at least he was no longer manipulative about it.

"Of course," she nods to confirm. "We have to set our differences aside if we are to accomplish anything. So I will start... by trusting you, like you trusted me."

She sees a faint smile on Ikol's face, before they both turn to the sky.

It was a start.

/A.N.: Hi! So I was very curious about the development of the Voice and what could have driven him into madness as I read the Amulet series, and I'm pretty happy with Supernova! I think it gives us more insight to who Ikol really is as a person, which I think we'll see more of in the last book. I hope this was enjoyable, and, just to be clear, it was COMPLETELY FAMILIAL AND PLATONIC. If that wasn't obvious. I may do short stories following this story depending on how well it's received. I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment to tell me if I made any typos or if you liked it!


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